


Depraved

by Katsitting (Nekositting)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Universe- All Muggles, Beta Read, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Katsitting
Summary: He had only ever felt fleeting attraction to the girls in his year—to the pretty smiles and the bubblegum smell of perfume in Cho Chang’s skin. But this attraction was far deadlier than he could have expected.After all, everyone knew about Tom Marvolo Riddle.





	Depraved

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely shameless and self-indulgent. I have no excuse for this and I sincerely hope you enjoy another contribution to this ship's PWP department. 
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta erised-selddir for her undying support and for looking it over.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the piece. Please leave kudos and comments with your thoughts.
> 
> (P.S. Note that aside from everyone being a Muggle, Harry is still an orphan living with the Dursley's. Though I did not explain this in the story itself, Harry still has his godfather, who is still wanted for a crime he did not commit. Harry is using his very "dangerous" god father to threaten the Dursley's into pretty much allowing him to play football and other extracurricular activities. I apologize for not dropping this footnote earlier.)

Harry was depraved. He had known this from the moment he came across the most dangerous man he had ever met, but still desired nevertheless. A desire in his innocence he believed to be disdain and utter contempt.

Oh how wrong Harry was.

Thinking back now, it was easy for Harry to see how he came to feel the way he does now.

The man was beautiful, almost to the point it bordered on extreme. It almost pained him to look at him, but if he were being honest, it wasn’t the attraction itself that made his stomach twist and turn with both disgust and fascination. It was the man itself that drew him completely and that scared Harry more than he was willing to admit.

He was drawn to the way the man pulled people in—his gravitational force so strong that people could not help but flock to him with their greatest of desires and their hidden fears perched at the tips of their tongues. He was drawn to the way the man spoke to them—wove his pretty lies and smiled his kind, but mysterious smile.

Harry was drawn to the harmlessness the man portrayed; to the quiet strength in his limbs and the heat in his gaze. He was drawn in by the mask, but was enthralled by the secrets hiding beneath his flesh. Secrets Harry suspected the man had, but had never been able to confirm.

He knew the man was trouble, could taste the darkness with every shuddering breath he took near the man’s vicinity.

But he could not help himself.

Whenever he was in the same room with the man, it was always difficult for Harry to keep his composure. To not nod off in the middle of class when Snape was speaking, or to tune out his own friends when they were sitting together at lunch. His heart always felt ready to burst out of his chest, his hands clammy with sweat and his stomach clenching with something that made it difficult for him to breathe.

He truly did not know what this was; what these feelings meant and what this burning in his stomach was. It scared him easily how much he wanted the man.

He had only ever felt fleeting attraction to the girls in his year—to the pretty smiles and the bubblegum smell of perfume in Cho Chang’s skin. But this attraction was far deadlier than he could have expected.

After all, everyone knew about Tom Marvolo Riddle.

They knew that he was the most popular boy in their year; that he was the up and coming star to bring glory to their charter school. He was the cream of the cream—far more poised and elegant than the boys spoon-fed glory and gold.

He was like no man could ever dream to be—his movements fluid like a predator on the prowl, and his smile so bright that it awed and entranced all those that looked.

Or at least, this was something Harry had observed since discovering his sick attraction to the man.

Harry was not sure when it was that it had hit him—when his disdain and his total dislike for the tosser had turned into this guilty pleasure only he knew about. He did not have the heart to confess his attraction to his friends—too embarrassed and mortified at the fact that he was just as fucked as everyone else.

Riddle tended to have that effect, after all.

So that was how Harry found himself hidden beneath a random desk in his math class, afraid of being caught by the school’s security guard, Mr. Filch. He knew he should not even be here, that he should have left with Hermione and Ron when they had invited him out for pizza.

But he had heard that Riddle was meeting with his unusual group of friends in this classroom, and there was simply no way that Harry was going to miss out on an opportunity to learn more about the most enigmatic man in school. Sure, it was probably suicidal considering the unusual things that happened to people that crossed Riddle.

Some would go missing—their backpacks the only thing left of them after disappearing into the forest at the edge of the school. It did not help matters that the police had yet to find any of the missing students—drawing a lot of unwanted attention from residents in the small town. But it was the reality of living of in such a small town.

 But there were other instances too, where the students did not actually disappear. Instances that made Harry ever more suspicious that Riddle was somehow involved. The students that did not go missing would often get into unfortunate accidents. Nasty things that often kept Harry awake at night, debating whether there was something wrong with him when his obsession with Riddle still lingered in his thoughts.

Harry knew he should not be hiding underneath the desk to spy on the man—knowing how much of a risk it was to be found.

But if there was one thing Harry was, it was reckless.

Instead of running home as he should, to a family that probably would not care at all if Harry ended up dead, he was instead waiting with great anticipation; his palms sweaty with nerves and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest.  The feeling of it adding to his growing excitement.

He made sure to be extremely quiet despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins—careful to not inhale too deeply lest it somehow alert anyone outside that he was hiding in the room. Harry knew it was a silly thought to have, no one could possibly hear him from outside the doors. But he could not put the thought to rest.

Riddle was almost inhuman. For all Harry knew, the man could probably hear through walls.

It was laughable, completely ridiculous that he would put himself through danger just to get his fix of the man. But it was what Harry had become—what his dislike had transformed into after spending years trying to unearth secrets that Harry had no business knowing.

There was a click in the total silence of the room, startling Harry away from his thoughts. Harry immediately pressed his hands to his mouth, stifling the gasp of shock that wanted to shoot out of his mouth.

There was silence for what felt like an eternity after the door opened. Harry could not even breathe in those short seconds, fearing that in the silence it could somehow be heard. Harry waited, and then he heard footsteps.

Many of them breaking the silence before the door was shut, and the lock snapped into place.

Harry took a short breath then, his head dizzy when he had forgotten to breathe. The breath burned its way down his throat, but he did not even move to acknowledge the discomfort. He was listening too closely to the people in the room to bother with something as miniscule as that.

“My Lord.”

Harry heard several voices chorus, echoing both avid devotion and fear. Harry could recognize some the speakers despite the uniformity of the words—Malfoy’s a distinct pitch that always made Harry grimace with disgust, Lestrange’s sultry tenor too unique to ever be forgotten, Goyle’s deep tone too loud and obnoxious to not be recognized, and several others Harry could not quite place at all.

“You may rise.”

Harry felt the hairs on his arms rise with goose pimples, recognizing immediately the silky tenor of Riddle’s voice.

“Has there been any changes, Lucius?” Riddle almost hissed the words out, dragging out the ‘s’ in the words. Harry listened avidly at the short pause, before someone exhaled deeply. Harry was sure that had to be Malfoy.

“No, my Lord. It has been rather difficult to get my father to agree with the venture.” Malfoy sounded quite fearful then, the devotion Harry had heard earlier completely obliterated by the fear the man had to be feeling.

Harry jumped when he heard Malfoy suddenly scream, the pitch of it so high that Harry had to quickly gather his bearings lest he alert them of his presence. Harry suspected that Riddle was dangerous—having had something to do with the gruesome accidents and the missing students, but he did not expect to have all of his suspicions confirmed so readily in one night.

“N-no, please. F-forgive me, my Lord.” Malfoy screamed the words, and Harry winced when he heard something snap; the sound of it cutting through the air, and again, drawing another unwanted gasp from Harry.

Harry really needed to keep it together, or he was going to blow his cover.

“I do not tolerate failure, Lucius.” The words were ice cold, a tone that Harry had never heard come out of Riddle’s mouth before. It was sharp as a knife, cutting and almost as enthralling as the warm baritone Riddle had addressed his loyal servants with earlier (because really, that is what Riddle’s “friends” sounded like to Harry).

“I expect you to have your father wire the money by the end of the week, Lucius. See to it that you do not test my patience any more than your pitiful pleas already do.” Riddle drawled, another sharp crack drawing a strangled cry from Malfoy.

Harry was riveted by what he was hearing—his limbs trembling as he was forced to listen to Malfoy scream over and over; the cracking in the air coming faster and faster without sign of it letting up. It pained Harry to listen—a pungent smell in the air making it difficult for Harry to quite concentrate on the screams.

Harry breathed shallowly, drawing in as much air as he could to settle the conflicting emotions he felt coiling in his belly. He wanted to step up and stop it—to end Malfoy’s suffering and go to the police. But Harry was frozen under the desk, unable to move and unwilling to tell a soul about what it was that he had just discovered.

There was really no way that Harry could tell someone and be believed.

Riddle was the perfect student—a Mr. Hyde hidden beneath a beautiful and perfect Dr. Jekyll. No one would believe a word that Harry said without proof. And Harry seriously doubted that Malfoy would ever step up to implicate Riddle. It was Harry’s little secret, and it burned him to know it.

Harry was obsessed—unusually fascinated by the capabilities of such a nuanced manipulator, but it did not mean that Harry had suddenly lost his conscience. To touch himself at night at the sound of Riddle’s voice—to suspect rather than actually believe that Riddle was a monster was one thing, but to see it unfold before his eyes was entirely another.

Fantasy was fantasy—it was pure imagination and conjecture. But this was all too real, and it was too late for Harry to leave now.

“Let this be a lesson for you all.” Riddle hissed after Malfoy finally stopped screaming, the cutting sound finally absent. “Failure carries a price in my organization. Sacrifices _must_ be made. I expect nothing less than your undying devotion to the cause.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The chorus echoed once more, Malfoy’s voice the only one absent.

“You are all dismissed. Goyle, get this disappointment out of my sight.” Harry heard them shuffle immediately after Riddle’s order, the sound of dragging distinct in the silence. It had to be Malfoy being literally dragged on the ground.

It made Harry wonder just what it was that Riddle had done to have rendered the man incapable of walking on his own.

The door opened repeatedly, allowing Harry to note that there were at least six people that had left. Harry did not dare move until he was sure that everyone was gone—the fear in his gut robbing him entirely of his ability to move.

He heard soft steps move, the sound of them moving further away from the center of the room and towards the door. But instead of tell-tale sound of the door opening, announcing that the last known occupant was ready to leave, Harry heard the distinct sound of the lock snapping shut.

Harry paled, clenching his hands into tight fists to prevent himself from jumping out of his hiding place.

Did Riddle know he was there?

“Did you enjoy the show, _Harry_?” Riddle purred, the sound of it snapping Harry out of his panic-induced trance immediately. He did not move from where he sat on the floor, choosing instead to listen to Riddle’s steps in the room and to remain quiet. Riddle’s steps came from the other side of the room, so Harry had plenty of room to escape should Riddle somehow guess where Harry had hidden himself.

Still, how the _bloody_ fuck did Riddle know he was there? Harry had been careful when he had entered, his steps light and his head hidden behind the hood of an ugly sweater he had taken from some student’s open locker. He had kept his breaths light, his body as still as possible while he listened to Riddle torture Malfoy.

“Are we playing hide and seek, Harry? You know I’ll find you.” Riddle murmured, sounding almost excited at the prospect of looking for Harry in the darkness. Under any other circumstances, Harry would have found the entire notion of being in a room alone with Riddle euphoric—a dream come true.

But after what he had just witnessed, Harry did not want to be found. He ignored the fact that he had often fantasized similar scenarios like this before when touching himself in his bedroom.

Harry listened to the way Riddle’s steps grew louder, forcing Harry to quickly decide whether to risk coming out from under the desk and making a run for the door, or remaining there. He knew Riddle would eventually find him if he stayed—he couldn’t hide under the desk forever.

But Riddle was conveniently near the door, and Harry was not sure he’d be able to bypass him to get there. Harry may be part of the football team, but he had to be realistic with himself. He could most likely outrun Riddle, but he doubted he could get the door unlocked before Riddle was on him.

“Does it excite you to know you’re trapped in here with a monster, Harry? I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Harry swallowed, feeling a tension in the air that was not just danger. He would admit that he had had fantasies of this kind—of being chased before being found and devoured by the beast. They were harmless thoughts—one any regular person had at the dead of night.

But this was not something he was imagining in his mind; this was real. He had to tell himself that to be caught would not end well for him—Riddle could make him disappear.

It was with this thought that Harry decided to move. Riddle’s steps were creeping closer now, and Harry needed to move now before it was too late.

He crept out from under the desk, grateful that there were no windows in the room and that Riddle had not turned on a single light. It was an abyss of black in there, and it suited Harry just fine. Harry would exploit it to get his arse out of the trouble he managed to drag himself into.

He crawled on the ground, moving so slowly that it felt like time itself was moving at a snail’s pace. He hated how slowly he had to move—used to running to make it to the end of the field when the football landed on his fingers. This was foreign for him, but Harry swallowed back the discomfort.

“It was too easy to plant the information, you know.” Riddle’s tone was conversational, though the last thing Harry would do was actually respond. “It was almost pathetic, really.”

Harry ignored him, edging closer to the front.

“I had two of my most loyal discuss near ear shot of you about where the next meeting would be.” Harry felt his stomach clench at that, the realization that Riddle had set him up almost too much of a shock to process.

“Of course, there was always the risk that you would not take the bait.” Riddle continued, his steps quiet now. The silence of it making Harry more nervous than he was willing to admit.

“But then, you declined your friends’ invitation after school.” Riddle whispered the words this time, and Harry was shocked to find that he could hear him perfectly clear despite the softness to his voice.

“I know where you’re hiding, little lion.” Harry felt every muscle in his body seize up, the whisper sounding much too close for Harry’s comfort. He could not hear Riddle anymore—the room having gone quiet after Riddle made his frightening statement.

Harry began to move again, desperation overtaking all rational thought. His instincts were screaming for him to get up and _run._ And he almost did, but he kept the panicked voice in his brain in check. He needed to stick to his plan—if he got up, Riddle would definitely know where he was.

He needed to get to the door quietly and then quickly open the door.

He could do this.

Harry held back his breaths, breathing so silently that he was rather impressed with himself.

He almost gave himself away when he hit the wall, biting back a curse when his nose bumped painfully against it unexpectedly. But Harry did not make a sound despite the throbbing.

Harry pressed his hands against the wall, feeling for the familiar wood of the door. He moved with the wall until he finally touched wood, triumph and relief flooding his brain. Careful to not scratch so as not to alert the predator stalking behind him.

Harry quickly stood up, grabbing onto the lock and unlatching it hastily. The sound of it was like an anchor smashing into the ground.

And then, the lights came on, near blinding him when it did.

“ _There you are_.” The words breathed into Harry’s ear.

Harry shouted when Riddle forced him against the door, his body so close that Harry could smell the aftershave he used and the faint smell of blood. The combination of the smells made Harry dizzy, and he quickly scrambled into action.

He kicked and punched the best that he could in his position, feeling Riddle hiss when a particular kick managed to hit Riddle in the shin.

Before Harry could do it again, Riddle sank his fingers into Harry’s hair and bashed his face into the door. He cried out, the sharp pain of his nose hitting the door enough to rattle his senses.

But still, he fought, kicking until Riddle was forced to bash Harry’s face into the door once more, and dig his knee into Harry’s lower back until he screamed.

“Is this what you dreamed about, Harry?” Riddle murmured into Harry’s ear when Harry finally stopped struggling, dizzy and breathing harshly through his open mouth.

Harry groaned when the knee was pressed more firmly into his back. “Is it up to your standards?” Harry cried out when Riddle suddenly bit into Harry’s shoulder, the shock of it more so than the pain drawing the sound out. Riddle gnawed at the flesh, the sensation so painful that Harry could hardly speak.

“R-r—“But Harry could not get the words out, interrupted when Riddle suddenly flipped Harry around, his back pressed against the wall.

Riddle closed the space between them too quickly for Harry to realize—too quickly for him to start fighting once more. Riddle had seized Harry’s wrists in one of his own, pressing them harshly against the door. Harry made to kick, but Riddle anticipated the move, slipping his leg between Harry’s before he could land another, what Harry knew for sure, to be painful hit to Riddle’s shin.

Harry could taste blood in his mouth, his upper lip and nose feeling moist with what he assumed to be blood. It stung worse than when a football had nearly broken his nose once at practice, and Harry tried his best to settle the strange feeling coiling in his belly.

“You’re hard.” Riddle stated simply, as if he were simply discussing the weather with a friend. Harry felt his cheeks warm with both embarrassment and anger—not willing to think on the fact that he _was_ in fact hard. Had been hard since Riddle admitted to knowing Harry was in the room the entire time.

“Let me go.” Harry stated, his bottom lip throbbing. He didn’t care that he was hard—that he was unbearably aroused by Riddle from the start. He already knew he was fucked up—that he was depraved for finding someone so twisted and cruel arousing.

But Harry was just Harry, he did not thrive off the pain and suffering of others. He volunteered at the homeless shelter every chance that he had; he helped those in need.

But Harry could not stifle the gasp when Riddle rubbed him through jeans—his knee creating a delicious friction that Harry could not help but rut against.

_God, I am so fucked up. Absolutely bent._

“If only you could see yourself now. You look absolutely _exquisite_.” Harry trembled when Riddle’s lips kissed at his throat, the sensation of it a contrast to the deep ache he felt after Riddle’s rough treatment. His tongue was smooth, licking at the sensitive spot behind his ear. He had only ever dreamed of this—fantasized about this, he never would have guessed it would become a reality.

Harry cried out when Riddle bit him again, the pain of it so arousing that he could not help grinding harder into Riddle’s knee, unsure of when exactly he had stopped struggling and had given in.

“P-please.” Harry had no idea what he was begging for, but he wanted it desperately. The friction between his cock and Riddle’s knee was not enough. He needed to feel skin against skin.

It did not matter that Riddle had dug his teeth into Harry’s neck, or that Riddle’s nails were embedded so deeply into Harry’s wrist that it stung. Harry wanted more, he whined when Riddle unclenched his jaw, kissing down the delicate skin at Harry’s throat after releasing the skin from between Riddle’s teeth.

“S-stop teasing.” Harry squeezed his hands into tight fists, renewing his struggles. Harry was burning from the inside out; he needed to get his fix now or he was sure he would bloody lose his mind.

He had never been touched this way before—this was nothing like the shy kisses and the delicate caresses of the girls he’d dated in the past. This was something else entirely, and he almost sobbed when Riddle dug his fingers deeper into Harry’s wrists and continued to grind his knee against Harry’s cock.

He should be embarrassed at what he must look like—of the desperation that was making itself more and more known with each breath he took and each jerk of his hips. He should be, but he could not find it in himself to feel ashamed.

He’d deal with the consequences later.

“You’re going to hold still for me. Nod your head if you understand”

Harry heard Riddle whisper the order into his ear, almost missing the threatening edge to the words when the man sucked his ear into his mouth. Harry slowly nodded, swallowing down the anticipation itching beneath his skin when Riddle chuckled softly into his ear.

Riddle was going to be the death of him. It was almost sad that it could be quite literally his own death.

Riddle suddenly released his hold on Harry’s wrists, flooding Harry immediately with a sense of loss. His wrists felt cold now, missing the heat that radiated off Riddle’s flawless skin. Harry was tempted to chase Riddle’s hands, but he held himself back.

Riddle had asked him not to move, and Harry would comply if it meant that he could experience much more.

Harry watched the way Riddle watched him—the darkness of his pupils swallowing the brown in his irises. It astounded Harry that Riddle could want him just as much as he wanted him; that the look in his eyes was not the ice of death waiting to claim another soul, but of a star that was near combustion. Riddle looked at him as if Harry were something to eat; prey that Riddle had been watching from his hidden perch.

And then Riddle was on his knees in front of him, the suddenness of it more shocking than when Riddle revealed he had set Harry up. Harry was frozen by the sight of a man he had only ever fantasized about in his mind between his legs, his face near enough to the zipper of his trousers that he could almost feel the breaths through the material.

He could probably cum from just this alone. His cock was already dripping through his boxers from the delicious way Riddle had been touching him earlier.

“W-what are you-?” Harry’s breath hitched when Riddle hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants, the sensation of Riddle’s fingers against his own skin enough to interrupt what he wanted to say; what he wanted to know.

“Let me lay down some ground rules while you are still coherent.” Harry was not quite sure if he was coherent at all, to be frank. Since he had decided to come into this room under the great idea of spying on Riddle, Harry was sure he had lost all of his brain matter in the process. It took a special kind of mad to do what he was doing. To enjoy the fact that Riddle could easily end him, and be aroused by this notion.

“You are not allowed to touch me.” Harry wanted to protest, but the look in Riddle’s eyes killed the words ready to form. There was something in them that promised pain if he disobeyed and Harry was unsure if he wanted to push the man’s buttons just for the sake of his masochistic tendencies and reckless curiosity.

“You are not allowed to look away.” Harry shivered when Riddle played with the button of his jeans, dragging the digits on the zipper’s seam before pulling it down. The sound of it was loud in the silence that had fallen in the room, but Harry was too absorbed with the smirk on Riddle’s face to pay it any mind.

“Can you do that for me, Harry?” Riddle finished unzipping Harry’s trousers, quickly hooking his fingers once more to the waistband of his jeans as Riddle practically purred the words out. Harry was frozen against the door, unable to answer Riddle’s question when Riddle was touching him so nicely.

Harry winced when Riddle suddenly embedded his nails into his skin, the sting finally spurring Harry into action when Harry failed to respond. “Yes!” He sounded too eager and pathetic to his own ears, a flush of embarrassment surely staining his cheeks.

But he could not help himself.

“ _Good boy_.” Harry felt something like pride swell in his chest, the praise and the sensation of Riddle’s fingers absolutely blissful.

Then Riddle was yanking his pants down his hips, his boxers along with them, in one quick motion. Harry felt the cold first, the touch of the icy air against his heated skin drawing a gasp from his lips before his embarrassment followed.

He wanted this more than he had wanted anything else before.

But he had never done this before. Never exposed himself to the eyes of someone as hauntingly beautiful and dangerous as Riddle. It was one thing to shower with his mates from the football team, but this was something else.

Harry watched the way Riddle devoured him with his gaze, taking in the way Harry’s cock was leaking viscous fluid already and the rosiness at the head of Harry’s cock. It made Harry want to hide away—the look too hot and embarrassing all at once.

“ _Perfection_.” Then Riddle was leaning forward, almost as if he were drawn in by the sight before him. Riddle’s flickered back up to Harry’s at that instance, and Harry stopped breathing altogether when his lips closed around Harry’s cock, overwhelmed by the sight of it being swallowed by Riddle’s mouth and the heat.

Riddle’s mouth was hot and wet, the feeling so intense that Harry could not help bucking into the delicious feeling. But then Riddle’s hand was forcing him back against the door, forcing Harry’s hips to remain still as the man suddenly sucked Harry in.

Harry moaned at the feeling, closing his eyes when Riddle scratched at his cock with his teeth. Harry felt like he was already at his limit.

Riddle was slow in his pace, the combination of his tongue and teeth drawing moans and cries from Harry’s mouth despite the slowness. He wanted Riddle to pick up the pace—and he very nearly dropped his hands into Riddle’s hair, but the memory of Riddle’s words earlier stopped him.

Harry opened his eyes once more when Riddle suddenly stopped, and again, was met with intense black eyes.

_Fuck, I looked away._

Then Riddle took him back into his mouth, but the pace was exponentially different. Harry cried out when Riddle bit into the delicate skin, only to be soothed just as quickly by his tongue as he bobbed Harry’s cock down his throat. Harry was trembling from the dual sensations, the way Riddle’s tongue dragged on the underside of his cock and the way Riddle dragged his teeth from his head back to the base of his dick a delicious conflict that eroded Harry’s self-control.

“I am going to c-cum.” He warned, scared but thrilled at the prospect of finally tipping over the precipice he had been edging towards since before Riddle chased him.

Riddle’s pace somehow became more brutal after Harry’s proclamation, less tongue and more teeth now, and Harry could not stop himself from screaming Riddle’s name when he came. He saw white, his open eyes unseeing as Riddle swallowed his seed.

Harry almost collapsed onto the ground then, but Riddle, somehow having foreseen it, had risen from his kneeling position and took a firm hold around his waist. Harry’s legs were trembling from the adrenaline and the endorphins, the high of the moment too much for him.

He had had orgasms on his own, but none had been that intense.

But, if he were being honest, he didn’t jerk off while standing either.

Harry did not know how long he leaned against Riddle before he calmed down, but it certainly felt like an eternity. He was incredibly embarrassed at how quickly he had cum from the sensation of Riddle’s practically eating his cock, but he was resolved not to show it.

“Wow.” Harry breathed out, unable to look Riddle in the eye when the man chuckled.

“That is only an appetizer of what is to come later, pet.”

_Wait, what?_

“L-later?” Harry practically squeaked the words out, not quite comprehending what was happening.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

Harry was completely mortified and embarrassed at the way Riddle pressed himself more closely to Harry—Riddle’s cock pressing insistently against his lower back.

Harry swallowed nervously, excited and frightened at what was to come.

 


End file.
